


Silent musings, borne by darkness, ruling all

by Nalyra



Series: Stormy blue, tinged with sunlight and tar [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Smut, Implied Sexual Content, Intimacy, M/M, POV First Person, POV Hannibal, Post-Canon, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-08-11 12:25:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7892266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nalyra/pseuds/Nalyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the TWOTL-Anniversary.</p><p>Hannibals musings and reactions after their first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silent musings, borne by darkness, ruling all

**Author's Note:**

> Missing Scene between their first time in [Baptism](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6561175) and [Awakening](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6572284).  
> What happens directly after their first time.  
> Unabashed Fluff and Smut.

He turns to me, an open, sated and relaxed look on his face, an almost dopey smile playing at the corners of his mouth and I know without a doubt that it’s mirrored on mine, a ludicrous thought indeed, its truth etched into my soul. 

By him. 

I push my nose along the soft skin of his left eye, breathing us in, deeply welcoming the rank odor of faint soap, shampoo, still some molecules of blood somewhere, and, more prominently, sex and sweat and semen on -us-, the mixture new and intoxicating. My eyes are still moist, and I swallow against the need to wipe at them again, opting instead to bend down instead and lick his offering off of him, at least whats left actually on him and not stuck to me. I chuckle, once, knowing I will get up in a moment to clean us up but utterly reluctant to do so just yet, his answering startled laugh making something in me clench.

My eyes flit to the ring on the nightstand for a moment, and to see it laying there is like a punch to the gut, and I swallow tightly. He undulates under me and the movement returns my focus to him, always him, and I continue my worship of his body, my lips ghosting along his sparsely haired nipples, tongue flicking once, grinning on the sharp inhale, my forehead descending down onto his chest for a moment, the heartbeat felt intimately. 

His hands come up to thread through my hair and he relaxes beneath me, softly humming, utterly sated and trusting and the beast in me wants to rip him open, and crawl into him, to suffocate slowly in him, rebirthing us through death, merging us for all eternity. My lips curl back and I drag my teeth along the scar on his stomach, the beautiful silver smile that marks him as mine, eternally. The mark he allowed himself to give to me, surrendering to me and letting me consume him in this way, our mutual betrayal cut out quite literally. He sighs softly, the soft skin drawing in, and I dip my tongue into his bellybutton, making hims squirm tiredly beneath me.

His bitter offering melds on my tongue, merging with my own juices, forever taken into me. His fingers stroke only lightly now, and his breathing evens out and I marvel at it, not even disturbed when I softly trail my lips over his cock, vulnerable and beautiful between his legs. I swallow, looking up and see him look at me, heavy lidded blue almost completely obscured by his lashes. I have to try twice before my voice holds.

„Lift your legs for me, beloved, I need to …“

… check, I want to say, but my voice falters on the need, so pure right there at the fore. His hands drop to his hips and I swallow and watch him pull them up and I blink rapidly, trying to regain some sense of propriety. I trace my finger along the rim of his entrance, looking utterly used, and red, swollen. I swallow again, hard and ghost my fingers over the skin, checking for tears, needing to touch. I sigh deeply, relief settling in my gut when I do not see any serious tears. I bend down and press a kiss to his perineum, a huffed laugh from him making me chuckle as well, some of the oppressive need turning into something more lighter, infinitely more precious.

I softly push his legs down and crawl back up, resting on my arms and knees above him. He is looking at me, deeply relaxed, gaze open, and I marvel that he dares to look, has always looked, the only one truly allowed. The only one surviving the wrath for trying to. He tilts his head, consideration stealing into his eyes and I watch in rapt fascination as a thousand emotions flicker over his face, settling back into amused and tired contentment. I smile at him, curious, my treacherous heart taking up speed.

„What is it that you see, Will?“

His lips curl into a smile and his hands come up to run softly up my arms, coming up on my shoulders, pulling me softly down. He whispers against my mouth.

„You.“

He kisses me then and I sink into him, once more messing us up, a part of me wondering at that, too, so uncharacteristically for me, until the touch of his tongue, leisurely stroking along mine banishes all thought, stubble softly rasping, traces of blood still discernible from a cut I made on his lip with my teeth in the heat of the moment, fusing our destinies.

Our kisses turn to small nips and glides after a while, both of us too tired and sated to start anew, the intimacy making me tremble, and he starts to hum again when he can feel it run through me, his hands holding on more tightly. I pull back slightly and for a long moment let my forehead rest on his, breathing us in again, committing this moment to memory. His eyes flutter when I draw back but don’t quite open and I grin and press a soft kiss to his nose, a half groan the only response, his hands falling to the mattress when I draw back slowly.

„Wait here for a moment, please.“

Another hum, his breathing once again evening out and I place my hand above his heart for a moment before I force myself to get up. I limp into the bathroom, my ankle still hurting but inconsequential in any considerations.  
I pick up our clothes, crouching on the floor for a moment before I reach for his bloodied shirt and press it to my nose, the beast snarling and I grin darkly, flashes of things to come making my soul soar.

I put our clothes into the wash bin, turning to wet a towel and look at myself in the mirror, hesitating when I behold my reflection. I look at the deep lines, the silver in my hair, wrinkles and puffy red eyes, hard angles and cruelty tamed by force of mind etched into it, and yet, for the first time as long as I can remember, there is peace there as well, peace he offers me. I swallow and wash my hands, ripping my gaze away from my own reflection after a moment, cleaning myself. I towel myself off and then prepare some wet towels, hopefully still warm enough when I get back to him.

He is still prone on the messy bed, breathing shallow but for some reason I cannot name I know he does not yet sleep. I limp over slowly and start cleaning him, softly pressing his hands back to the mattress when he starts, his sleepy eyes shooting open for a moment and wanting to help, shaking my head at him. He relaxes again, letting me handle him, goosebumps erupting where my cloth trails along his skin, humming again when I cover him with a fresh linen afterwards, the white linen enhancing his ethereal beauty. His lashes flutter again and a small smile twitches in the corners of his mouth, the words mumbled, slightly slurred.

„Stop thinking so much, Hannibal. Come to bed.“

I nod and then shake my head at myself because of course he cannot see the motion, returning the washcloths to the bathroom. When I return, some primal sense informs me that he now indeed sleeps, breaths deep and easy, and I marvel at it before swallowing tightly, and I crawl up to him, sliding under the sheet, his body heat drawing me in and I hesitate for a moment before I embrace him, spooning into his side, deciding to seize the moment. My face nuzzles into the side of his nape, hair tickling my nose, and he slightly turns to me in sleep, and I sigh against his throat. 

My gaze unfocuses a bit, the glint drawing it in and it falls onto the ring again, beyond his profile. The yellow gold glints pale in the moonlight, smudged and discarded, the final physical and metaphorical anchor left behind, no, even better, taken off by me, with permission.  
My hand tightens on his pectorals, and he sighs softly, a sweet, relaxed breathy sound and I feel it’s echo stuck in my chest, held by too much emotion. 

Yellow gold. It has always fascinated human kind, no other metal transfixing us as does true gold, a symbol of the sun and therefore life and especially because of this, I cannot help feeling that it would be unfitting for us. Our union is something darker and even more beautiful for it, it has teeth and claws and we both bear it’s marks on our bodies. The scars on my forearms itch for a moment, sensory input triggered by memory and a fierce pride steals into my soul, for him and for me, having found each other against all possible odds, conjoined. 

I relax further into him, molding into him, softly tracing my fingers over his ribs, careful not to wake him. It’s a delicate line to walk, caressing and petting, not disturbing, not demanding, and not one I’m prone to acknowledge very often, unused to placing another’s needs above my own, apart from scheming considerations. 

Her ring catches my eye again and I feel my muscles lock, fighting against the impulse to tighten my arms around him ever more, as it would probably wake him in the process. So many hours I have schemed and thought, planned and analyzed. Hoped. A part of me knows that with all my intellect and ability to predict outcomes, this all had been reduced to hope. Hope in his inability to stay away in the end. Hope in his becoming. Hope in my ability to predict. Hope in his need. Hope in my need. 

In the end, I needn’t kill her and I wonder for an instant at that as well.  
She’s safe now, as safe as she’ll ever be, her and her son protected in a bubble of ‚what if’s, domestic dreams spoiled by a dragons fury. A bid at fate, destined to fail from the very beginning, corrupted by our forever entwined past.

My hand reaches out, lifting from his chest, tracing the cold metal, just within reach. The symbol of their union and I want, I want so desperately that it stumps me, thoughts frozen in the mortifying realization that, now, that I have it all, I have lost the ability to be without him. I force my hand away from it, force it to stop trembling, force myself to relax against him, force all thoughts away. 

For now.

 

____________

 

I feel him stir after what feels like a treasured eternity, suspended tranquility broken, reshaped when he oh so quietly slips from my grasp. My fingers twitch without my volition and he turns and presses a breathed kiss to my hairline and I relax again, once more without a conscious thought. I feel him watch me for a while, silently gazing at me and I am conscious of it, yes, a part of me wanting to acknowledge, and yet, yet… I let him, curious as to what he feels the need to do, so deeply relaxed now I know I must seem asleep.

There is a part in me that worries, worries that he would leave me, now, after we have finally consummated our relationship but it dies a silent death when he turns to my wardrobe and pulls something from it, shuffling around, getting dressed in -my- clothes. I burrow in the place of the bed he lay on and let him go, let him work through it on his own, happily accepting whatever he chooses to do. 

I drowsily realize that he could go and get a knife now, and kill me, and I would let him. In fact there is a part of me that yearns for my life to end at his hand now or whenever he chooses, the yearning, once realized, also recognized as an old one indeed, maybe since that fateful evening in the Hobbs’ kitchen, when I would have let him pull that trigger on the singular chance to be actually seen.

The door closes silently and I lay there in the darkness of the room, all my senses trained on the small sounds coming from beyond the door. 

Focused on him. 

Him alone.

**Author's Note:**

> I thrive on kudos and comments.... please feed me!!!! ;)


End file.
